


The Evening Sings in a Voice of Amber

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sharp sting, a look into the eyes of a madman, and their world fell apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Evening Sings in a Voice of Amber

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Princess of Geeks (Princess)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/gifts).



> Written for the Jack/Daniel Ficathon 2016, for princessofgeeks, who wanted:  
> Requirement (#1): post series (I'm comfortable with where we saw them in SGU, but that's not necessary really)  
> Requirement (#2): Daniel is in DC, Jack is the head of Homeworld. The program goes public. Then what?  
> Optional Request: Established relationship or first time -- either is great.  
> Restriction (#1): No character death, please, unless it's the kind of ascension that we know can be taken back.
> 
> This story is a sequel to my earlier fic, Even Your Darkest Night, in which the program goes public and Daniel pays the price. It is also archived here.

_The evening sings in a voice of amber,_

_the dawn is surely coming”_ \- Al Stewart

 

From _The Times,_ London. Excerpt from a world exclusive by the Insight investigative reporting team.

_The man who solved the puzzle that opened the Stargate for the world was the victim of a horrifying murder attempt just days after the program went public, Insight can reveal._

_Dr. Daniel Jackson, one of the most highly-visible public faces of the program in the early days, almost died in the incident, which has been the subject of a blanket news blackout. He has not been seen in public for four months._

_The program had claimed that Dr. Jackson was offworld negotiating trade and diplomatic treaties with new alien allies._

_Wilson Faulkner, 42, was tried amid tight security at a secret_ _US_ _court hearing – allowed under temporary emergency powers introduced in the wake of_ _outbreaks of_ _civil unrest - after admitting the attempted murder of Dr. Jackson._

_Insight has learned that Faulkner administered a cocktail of poison by pricking Dr. Daniel's Jackson's hand during a meet and greet handshake after the explosive public revelation of the Stargate's existence._

_Dr. Jackson's whereabouts are currently unknown._

_Faulkner, who claimed God told him to kill Dr. Jackson, faces life behind bars._

 

_> >>>>_

 

_United Nations Headquarters, New York, 11.50a.m. Two weeks after publication of the Insight report._

 

The small meeting room felt airless. Jack tugged at his dress uniform shirt collar in an effort to feel more comfortable. It was futile, and he knew it. His discomfort had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the man sitting at the desk, shuffling hand-written notes with slightly trembling hands.

The trembling hit Jack hard. The tremors were part of the poison's legacy.

Jack's hands clenched. He unclenched them when he felt Daniel's eyes on him.

“What?” Jack asked, his voice tight. He couldn't feign relaxed nonchalance. Not today.

“Will you please sit down? You're wearing out the carpet.”

Jack halted, mid-stride. He'd been pacing and hadn't even realized it.

“They can afford a new one,” he said, gruffly, shoving his hands in his pockets surreptiously checking his watch for the tenth time in five minutes as he did so.

“It's five minutes later than the last time you checked and there's ten minutes to go. Here endeth the time check.” Daniel shuffled the notes some more, then re-arranged them again, then placed them on the desk, squaring the corners precisely.

Jack looked at him closely, while trying to pretend he was studying some nondescript painting on the wall behind the desk in the antechamber where they'd been for twenty long, nerve-stretching minutes. Daniel was a little pale, his eyes a little sunken. That face, that beautiful, beloved face, was too thin and his cheekbones too angular, despite months of fresh, clear Minnesota air. A lump rose in Jack's throat. Emotions too damned close to the surface. The urge to take Daniel by the arm and drag him out the back door of the building, away from here, away from everything, was immense.

“Jack?” Daniel was looking at him, concern written deep in that familiar furrowed brow.

“What?”

“Relax. Please.”

Jack jiggled up and down on his toes, fighting not to pace. “Security was supposed to be watertight, Daniel. There were no more than six people in that courtroom.” This was an old argument, and Jack was well aware they'd covered the ground over and over. The story about what had happened to Daniel on that awful day in Washington, and the subsequent trial, had leaked. There was nothing to be done. Still, he was struggling to get past that. “Six people, Daniel. Six.”

“I know.”

“And there are hundreds out there,” Jack pointed in the direction of the main hall, “and thousands, millions out there.” He pointed towards the UN Plaza, and beyond it to the rest of the still reeling world.

“I know that, too.”

Calm. Daniel was so fucking calm. How could he be so motherfucking calm about this when Jack was fighting raging anger and terror? Struggling to stay in the here and now, Jack found himself, as he so often did, back in the school gymnasium on that early summer day, watching Daniel shake hands with a curious, frightened public, doing his best to put people at ease by explaining that the Gate was a force for good in the world.

Then, a sharp sting, a look into the eyes of a madman, and their world fell apart.

Jack rounded the desk and knelt before Daniel, careful not to knock over the cane leaning against Daniel's chair.

“You do not have to do this.”

“Jack.” He said his name so softly, so lovingly, it hurt.

“You really don't, Daniel. You don't owe anyone anything.”

Daniel smiled one of those small, half-smiles that did things to Jack's heart he'd never been able to articulate. Daniel started to reach out and Jack closed his eyes, longing to feel the warmth of Daniel's fingers against his skin, but at the last second Daniel withdrew his hand and curled it into a fist.

“I owe it to myself,” Daniel said, gently, replaying a conversation they'd had so many times in so many versions. Jack wanted him out of the public eye. Daniel couldn't do that. By differing routes, the conversation always ended up at the same brick wall, frustration and fear hanging there unspoken, unresolved. “If I back away, he's won, and so has anyone else who thinks that what he did is acceptable.”

Jack's heart thundered in his chest. “I don't care.”

Daniel's eyes crinkled at the corners as his face softened into affectionate exasperation.

“Yes you do. And you know _I_ do. There's too much at stake here.”

Oh, Jack could so get behind that. “Yes. There is. You. _You're_ at stake.”

This time, Daniel gave in and raised a hand to cup Jack's face. It was a soothing balm. It was everything.

“There's so much fear out there, Jack. More since the news of what happened to me got out. People need to know what the Gate can mean to them, that it's a good thing, that there are so many possibilities.”

Jack placed his hand over Daniel's, hoping to absorb some of those tremors running through his fingers. He'd take away the pain, the trembling, the nightmares if he could. It killed him that he couldn't.

“Then let someone else tell them. Let Mitchell. Let Carter, she's amazing, she's smart, the camera loves her, they'll listen to her. Teal'c maybe – everyone's favorite alien.”

“And they all have stories to tell. But their stories are not mine, and right now it's my story people need to hear.”

Jack sighed. He'd lost this argument long ago, even before the UN approached Daniel with their Ambassador to the World offer.“Kind of bigging yourself up a lot there, Dr. Jackson.”

Deflect. Insult. Do it with humor. It's how they rolled. It had worked for more than a decade.

Daniel huffed a small laugh, and it broke some of the tension. He pulled his hand away. Jack cast a glance to the door. They wouldn't be alone for much longer and no one knew about them, not even those closest to them. It was the safest way. Jack hated it.

“I just … I just need to end all this wild speculation about what happened to me.” He sounded weary. Tiredness was a by-product of the poisonous cocktail that had attacked his nervous system, affected his motor skills, played havoc with his memory, but this weariness came from a different place. And only by fighting on for what he believed would that weariness be eased. Jack knew that.

The world's Press had exploded with the story of what happened to Daniel in Washington. Theories were rife as to how he was, where he was, what the future held for him. Daniel read the slew of ever more ludicrous stories, despite Jack's efforts to protect him from them. It was the _Enquirer's_ offering that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Daniel was bed-ridden and living in some kind of bizarre protective custody in deepest Arizona with only alien robotic care-givers for company. Apparently. It was the very best motivation to fight his way back to health.

And it also motivated Daniel to take up the specially-tailored UN role on his own terms – he'd say what he wanted to say without political interference and run a worldwide education program his way – and here they were, a few minutes away from millions of TV viewers and a gaggle of reporters.

And Jack hated it.

“Could you …?” Daniel indicated a carafe of water.

“Sure.” Jack poured them both a glass.

Daniel took a few sips, placing the glass down carefully on the desk. “I'm safe here. This is the best way to do this.”

Jack gave him the side eye. “You were supposed to be safe in Washington.”

“Not meeting the public today. Just a speech in a chamber that's been fortified with a thick platform of steel and concrete to protect it from particularly potent bomb blasts.” Daniel looked pensive. “Did you know that when they undertook the recent refurb they refused to get rid of their 1950s leather blotters. They put their iPads on top, but they’re still using the same blotters.”

“What?”

Daniel's train of thought frequently got derailed or went off at tangents. Some things never changed. It was weirdly reassuring.

“Never mind.”

Jack sighed. “Okay, maybe safe today. What about all those tomorrows?”

“Well, I'll just have to hope there's some hot, manly Air Force type willing to throw his body in front of any incoming threat.”

“There is.” Daniel had obviously been going for light-hearted but Jack had never been more serious. He'd walk through fire for this man. Daniel had done that for the world in the fight against the Ori. Jack owed him nothing less.

“I know.” Daniel's voice cracked, just a little. The fissure in Jack's heart opened wider. He didn't know if he could do this, watch Daniel put himself out there again.

Daniel reached out to straighten Jack's collar, which didn't need straightening. He seemed to need to touch him. Jack was fine with that.

“I can't wait for you take that damned uniform off for the last time,” Daniel muttered, his hand resting on Jack's chest.

“Couple of months,” Jack said. It felt a lifetime away.

“I really do want to tell everyone about us, you know. I'm not ashamed. I just need to protect you.”

Jack smiled gently. “I know.”

“It feels safer that no one knows. Linking your name to mine ...”

“Will be the best thing you ever do, Dr Jackson-O'Neill.”

And there was another of those heartbreaking smiles. “I was going to say 'is dangerous.'”

“Hey, I live for danger. Or I did, before the knees and back became weather contingent.”

Daniel tightened his hold on Jack's uniform jacket and pulled him closer. Their foreheads touched and Jack couldn't resist nuzzling. It was blissful.

Pulling back, Daniel fixed him with a piercing look. “I'm going to be fine, Jack.”

From somewhere, Jack summoned a smile. “Yes. You are.” Jack would see to it. He'd come too close to losing him.

There was a knock on the door.

Jack sent every bit of love and reassurance he could into the look he gave Daniel. He got the same in return. They could do this.

Colonel Davis poked his head around the door and entered, closing it behind him.

“Dr. Jackson? They're ready, sir.”

“For the hundredth time, Paul, it's Daniel.”

Daniel smiled at him. Davis smiled back. Jack scowled. It was an old routine. Davis had been a good friend to Daniel for a long time. Jack's feigned jealousy was _nearly_ totally feigned.

Jack stood up, his knees protesting, and held out a hand to help Daniel rise from his chair. Daniel gave him the look and Jack gave him a wry smile of acknowledgement, as Daniel did it without him. It took a while.

Cane in hand, Daniel scooped up his speech papers and walked slowly towards the door.

“Colonel Carter is sitting in the front row, just to your right, next to where General O'Neill will be,” Davis said, hand on the door handle as Daniel approached.

“Sam's here?”

“The Hammond docked last night. Colonel Mitchell's here, too.”

“Did you know they were here?” Daniel threw over his shoulder.

“They might have said something about wanting to support you. And I might have booked a table at that steak place Mitchell raves about for later, although I'd be happier if I could fly you straight back to Minneapolis - St Paul tonight. Apparently, they want to talk over their wedding plans. You're the diplomat, so I said you'd handle the seating arrangements for the reception. Mitchell's great-aunt Phyllis doesn't get on with _anyone_.”

Daniel stopped at the doorway. “That's very thoughtful of you.” Sarcasm – he still had it.

Unable to stop himself, Jack reached out to adjust Daniel's tie. It was an intimate gesture and probably betrayed too much, but Davis was a friend, and trusting the world again had to start somewhere.

“You look great,” Jack said, softly.

“I don't,” Daniel said, face softening.

“Ready?”

Daniel took a deep breath. “As I'll ever be.”

Daniel took the lead as they headed towards the security council chambers.

Jack followed close behind, watching each slow, difficult step Daniel took with a fierce love and admiration.

Daniel could do this.

 _They_ could do this.

Because however they rolled, they rolled together.

 

 

ends

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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